


Always Together

by Zoya52



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya52/pseuds/Zoya52
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sundered from their kin at Alqualondë,a group of elves are transported to another world. With the time of Elves ending in Middle Earth, three young maidens journey into the magical world to find their lost time travel work. While staying under cover, they have a task to protect the "Golden Boy". Sounds easy? Add a dwarf and a smart witch in the mix. Eru have mercy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter is revised and edited, thanks to all those who helped me in this fic.

A disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs. Rest all characters/places/world belong either to J. K. ROWLING or J. R. R. TOLKIEN.

The whole conversation in this chapter takes place in Quenya.

F.A. 1496 – Tirion

"Son, do not be a fool to follow Fëanáro on his foolish journey to Middle Earth," pleaded Rùmil, Lambengolmo of Ñoldor. He looked at Artulco and continued sternly, "You will be sundered from your kin for who knows how long." Despite his authoritative voice, Artulco could see the worry in his father's eyes.

"We are family, Atar; he is my cousin and friend," the younger elf replied with a sigh, while balancing the two Lamps of Ñoldor. It had been like this for quite a long time, and many had already left. The only ones who had not were himself, his sister, and their twenty friends–whom would be waiting for them at the borders of Alqualondë. Rùmil, their father, had refused to give his blessing even though the decision had been made. "And you know the reason why we must take this journey. Someone must be there to stop him from being too proud in his strength."

Before Rùmil could say anything, a fair voice came from behind him.

"Atar, had it not been you who taught us to be together with our family despite the circumstances?"

Rùmil and Artulco turned together to look at the newcomer. The maiden had fair hair, just like their father, and wore a white dress. She carried a bag filled with herbs her brother had requested.

Ilsawen's eyes were bright, though a sad smile played on the corner of her lips at the scene before her. Her brother was the mirror image of their father save the colors of his eyes and hair. However, both would deny it vehemently, they were so much alike. She took a deep breath and tried not to cry. She and her brother would soon be separated from their father for a long time. Ilsawen was still disturbed by the dream she had after the destruction of the Two Trees, as it was Irmo who was the Master of Desires and Dreams; but she would not mention it lest he try to use the information to stop her from taking the journey. She looked at her father with pleading eyes.

"Let us go, Atar. We will not leave Fëanáro and his seven sons on their own, no matter how stupid their decision is."

Rùmil knew exactly what his daughter was trying to do. But how could he not worry, when not one but both of his children had intended to leave Valinor, journeying back to the place where they had lost their mother? They both had been too young at the time to remember much.

Soon after they had arrived to Valinor, the Elf had lost his sister, Mìriel. He had barely recovered from the loss of his wife.

Though he himself loved Fëanáro like his son – as the young prince had spend almost his whole childhood playing with his cousins,and was quite proud of him and respected his intelligence – he was the inventor of Tengwar script used by the Ñoldor. But this felt wrong in so many ways. A decision made in anger was never a wise one, but he could do nothing regarding Fëanáro and his sons; they had sworn an oath in the name of Eru himself.

He was grief stricken at losing Fëanáro and his sons, but he could not bear the thought of his own children following him on this fool hardy mission.

How could he allow them to depart for a place where every other step might bring death and destruction? He had witnessed it first hand, the danger of that place, before they made their journey to Valinor, following Finwë.

Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Yes, you are correct, Ilsawen. That does not mean you will agree to any fool decision he makes. Does he even consider what will befall his family, if he goes through with this?"

"And that is Fëanáro, Atar. He does not think when angered, and the grief cause by the death of his father simply makes it worse. Did you not yourself avenge the death of mother? Why hold him for responsible for being angered at the actions of the Ainur?"retorted Artulco, breathing deeply. "And now he leaves again into Exiles, and Eru knows what might befall on him. The problems and suffering he will encounter for sure. We need to be there for him."

Rùmil was silent at the frustation he could hear in his son's voice. Before he could recover, his daughter spoke again, her voice at once determined and sweet, much like her mother.

"Please, Atar, let us proceed. We would like to go before we get lagged behind. You know we will go, without your blessing if we must."

Rùmil had been trying to make them miss the others, but the stubborn looks in his children's eyes told him it simply wouldn't work. They were already an ocean apart from him.

"Neither of you are warriors," Rùmil argued weakly; he knew it was useless, as he himself had trained them in the use of various weapons, so they well knew how to protect themselves, despite their calm natures.

His children didn't bother to reply, just gave him a look that clearly denied the validity of his last point.

With a heavy heart, he said the dreaded word as he tried to conceal his pain.

"Lenna."

Artulco and Ilsawen looked at their father with wide eyes, barely believing what they heard was true. They had not expected him to give in so soon. One look at his defeated face, nearly made them rethink their decision. But is still wasn't enough.

They hugged their father, tightening their hold on him as they assured him, using Ósanwe,"We will come back, Atto. That is a promise."

Rùmil held them for a little longer and then released them, his eyes filled with tears, though he would not shed them, for he still had hope that they would return one day.

He opened a small trunk, which carried the memories and gifts from his wife and sister, and pulled out a shining silver cloak from inside it. He could still remember his sister sitting under the Galathilion under starlight, singing as she weaved, heavy with a child. She had presented this cloak to him on his begetting day. Though he did not understood the need of it, as Valinor was quiet safe at the time, she had insisted otherwise.

"This will one day be beneficial in the battle against the dark. Woven under Galathilion, under the guidance from Varië, the Weaver. Keep it safe, brother, until the time you will feel it should be passed on."

Rùmil placed the cloak in his daughter's numb hands, met their wide eyes with a sad smile as he kissed their foreheads.

"It has no use here anymore. May this protect you from unfriendly eyes. Namárië, children."

Ilsawen and Artulco touched the cloak still in daze; it felt like it was woven with water, light as feather. They gave a small smile in return.

"Namárië, Atto."

With a determined gleam in their eyes, they turned their back to their father and their home and left in the darkness carrying the two lamps.

As they reached the borders of Tirion, a sweet voice ridden with grief, called out from behind.

"Artulco, Ilsawen, á pusta!"

They turned and saw a golden haired maiden with a gleaming circlet on her head running towards them. Once close enough, she came to a stop in front of them. She carried a few coimas wrapped in Galathilion's leaves and a vial filled with Miruvor.

"Herinya Findis, it was not necessary,"said Ilsawen as she eyed the princess in front of her with fond exasperation. She knew full well the purpose of the other Elf maiden's presence.

"I know you know the art of making coimas and Miruvor, dear Ilsawen, but do take this. I insist."

The princess, though, was not looking at Ilsawen as she spoke; she gazed at Artulco with sad eyes, who had turned his back on her, a frown marring his handsome face. With some difficulty, she tore her gaze away from him and looked at Ilsawen with a small smile, though her eyes were grave.

Before Ilsawen could reply, Artulco interrupted her.

"We must hurry, sister. We are delayed already."

"Indeed,"replied Ilsawen, accepting the packets and the vial from the princess. "Hantalë, herinya ."

She went ahead, though halted his brother from following with a shake of her head. "You stay."

Findis gave her a wan smile in return. She looked at the Elf Lord waiting for him to speak. A part of her was eager to hear him speak again, though another part was in despair at his depart.

At last, Artulco faced the golden haired princess. "You must forget..."

Findis silenced him with her fingers on his lips, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She pulled out her pendant from her neck – a finely shaped dark stone held in a gold chain– the only adornment she wore, except for the circlet given by her father.

Artulco was startled by this, and tried to return it. "I cannot have this. It is precious to you. The gift was made by Fëanáro himself at your birth. The stone which he had acquired from the outer walls of the Halls of Námo."

Findis smiled slightly as she closed his fist. "It is a gift. Though I cannot accompany you, I want a part of me to be with you. Take it."

Artulco held her close, kissing her lightly. " Namárië, aranelnya."

The Elven princess did not know how long she stood there, watching them until she could see no more. Her heart broke at their departure – for she had hope that Lord Rùmil would not send them; she slowly returned to Tirion.

Far away, Artulco stopped and turned to glance one last time at the princess, whose back was turned towards him.

On the borders of Tirion, stood a tall Istari with fair hair, frowning at them.

"I insist you do not go, meldonya. It is not a wise decision."

Artulco heaved a sigh, as he patted his friend's shoulder. "The decision is made, Alatar. We must depart."

The Istari sighed as he watched them leave with grave eyes. "Namárië, Artulco. Tenn' enquetielva."

They reached Alqualondë and met with their companions. Upon their arrival, however, they heard screaming. Hearts stricken with worry, the siblings hurried their steps to their destination.

The scene they met was no less than horrifying. The beautiful harbour that once used to be covered with pearls and jewels, was now bathed with blood, it's air filled with grief and sorrow.

The blood of the Eldar was spilled, and misery filled their eyes. Artulco hastened and moved ahead, taking the bag from his sister's hand. Just as he reached an Elf wounded badly and tried to touch him, the Elf feebly attempted to roll away, accusation and pain visible in his eyes. Ilsawen came forward to help, but before either one could do something, they felt the Elf breath his last.

After the death of Aunt Mìriel, Artulco had abandoned his passion for hunting and left Oromë. He went to the Gardens of Lórien to learn healing from Estë, such that he might never see the death of another Elf.

He felt himself go numb at the death of the Elf in front of him, feeling helpless for the first time, his hands bathed in the blood of his fellow Eldar. He meet his sister's pained-filled eyes, not knowing what to say, though he knew he did not need to. She placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to make him let go.

Then, they heard the message from the Valar.

The Doom of Ñoldor.

Forbidden to return, condemned to misery and grief.

They saw Prince Arafinwë turn around and leave with a small group after hearing the Doom.

They were torn between following the prince and being there for their cousin. Whether to turn around and be safe and let their cousin suffer alone or stay by his side.

The siblings looked at each other, knew what the other was thinking, and agreed. They could not leave Fëanáro and his sons to their doom. Their father would be safe, though hurt, but not their cousin, as he went ahead to face Morgoth alone.

Breathing deeply, they stood up, holding hands, decision made.

They saw their companions standing in front of them.

"If any of you wish to return with the prince, you are not required to continue with us,"said Ilsawen gently.

They watched their companions look at each other, worry and incredulous expression apparent on their faces, and waited for them to leave. Three among them, slowly came came forward and placed their hands on both of their shoulder, wishing them farewell. The rest stayed and after awhile the remaining replied, betrayal and hurt apparent in their eyes.

"Leave you and Artulco? I thought we were friends, Ilsawen."

"We would not leave you all alone."

"We will follow you, friend."

Artulco was irritated, and interrupted them before they could continue.

"You heard the news of the Doom of the Ñoldor. If you continue forth, you would be forbidden to return. And this journey shall subject you to misery and pain."

Ruiviél stepped forward, clasping her hand on Artulco's shoulder and looking at Ilsawen with fond exasperation.

"When we made the decision to come with you we knew the consequences. We will follow you, even to death."

Though the brother and sister were not happy with the decision, their hearts rejoiced at the statement of support. They looked at each of their remaining companions with gratitude in their eyes.

"So, we begin," said Ilsawen, breathing deeply, completely turning her back to any chance of return.

They passed many bodies of fallen Eldar, their hearts weighed down with grief at each one. Then they met and were halted by a small group of Falmarin. They were wounded but still standing, arrows nocked to their bows, ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice.

The one with fair hair came forward, bleeding from the wound on his head, though his voice sharp and strong.

"Leave!"

"Please lower your weapons. We do not mean any harm,"said Artulco, his hands raised slightly."Can you tell us where we may find our cousin, Fëanáro?"

"Kinslayer! Speak no further. Leave and never return," interrupted the fair-head Falmarin with a snarl.

Artulco was quite taken aback at the accusation, but Ilsawen was not. She took a step forward, tearing a piece of cloth from the end of her dress, and tied it securely over the Falmarin's bleeding head wound. The others of their group stared at her with dumbfounded eyes.

"Head injuries are perilous. And my brother here is not a kinslayer. He is a healer, and quite opposed to killing."

Before he could retort, however, a strong gust of wind blew around them. None had seen the likes of it before.

Artulco squinted his eyes, and saw a long, wide funnel shaped cloud stretching from the ground, moving speedily towards them. Feeling about him, Artulco grasped the hand of the nearest–hopefully his sister– and shouted.

"Hold onto each other! A windstorm is heading in our way!"

He began to pull away from the path of the tornado, extending his hand in front of him to feel around him, shouting again.

"Is everyone holding each other?!"

He heard many respond in affirmative behind him. He quickly counted the number of voices–including the Falmarins– and moved ahead.

"Ányë hilya!"

Artulco squinted his eyes, and tried to find around anything to hold on.

A few distance away, he saw a thin, wispy veil. He went forward to grasp it, though the veil swayed out of his grasp, and he passed right through it, pulling the others behind him.

As they passed through it one by one, they felt as if they were passing through ice, unable to see where they were headed.

The wind suddenly slowed down to a gentle breeze and Artulco carefully opened his eyes.

They were surrounded by huge trees which obscured the starlight; only a few gleams of the stars could be seen through the canopy of leaves. All his companions, including his sister and the group of Falmarin, slowly opened their eyes. He went to his sister, stepping on a small jewel in the shape of an egg.

"Are you hurt, nèsa?"

"Are we in Alqualondë?," asked Ilsawen ignoring his question. Her brows were drawn together, trying to remember whether they had ever visited this place, but came up with nothing. Nothing felt familiar, at all.

The fair-haired Falmarin saved Artulco from having to answer,as he looked around, his gaze weary.

"I have no memory of the place."

"Perhaps we are somewhere in Oromë's forest, Raqueno,"the dark-haired Falmarin suggested.

The fair haired Falmarin considered, with a nod.

"Maybe, Mistindo."

However, Artulco answered, as he went ahead and touched the bark of a nearby tree.

"No. This is not a part of Oromë's forest. The trees here are much younger than those which grow there."

Suddenly, Ilsawen ran into the forest.

"Ilsawen, wait!," Artulco called out, chasing after her, the others on his heels soon after.

They came to stop in front of a river, though Ilsawen was not looking at the water at all. Her gaze was fixed on the sky, her wide eyes filled with dread. The others soon joined her, and what they witnessed placed both wonder and fear in their hearts.

From the eastern side of the sky, they saw a small red fireball slowly rising, emitting light to dispel the darkness they had arrived in. Wherever it touched, the colors changed, emitting a wide range of hues. It was at once beautiful and terrifying, just like seeing the light of the Two Trees for the first time.

Soon, all darkness had been driven away by the light of the fire ball in the sky.

A small humming bird began to chirp its morning song above their heads.

It felt like a piece of Laurelin had been placed in the sky, for no other explanation could be made for it.

As the light landed on them, they unconsciously stepped away, drawing into the shade of the trees. Only one held still, clad in her white dress, glowing softly in the light.

Eyes closed, Ilsawen remembered the dream, the voice powerful enough to shake the very foundations of the Earth, reciting the Doom. Again and again."We have lost our home for forever", said Ilsawen in a voice filled with sorrow and pain.

Artulco wanted to deny, for it could not be, but in his feä, he could feel the difference. His heart filled with despair as he remembered the face of his grief stricken father, cousin and a certain golden haired Elf-princess.

Hearing the maiden's broken voice, Roqueno went to her. He gently lifted her chin, and looked deeply into her blue eyes, smiling gently. He put aside the loss of their homeland and the kinslaying grief for a later time.

"Never assume that. We will return. I dare not say it will be today, or even tomorrow. But I know in my heart that we will return home. We do not know how we came to this strange place, but I know one thing: Eru will not forget us. Maybe he has something in store for us, a task set before us, but one day we will return."

Ruiviél chose that moment to speak up.

"And till then what do you suggest we do?"

"I dare say we can live here, until we could find a way to return,"said Artulco with a small smile on his face, though it dare not reach his eyes.

A/N : Glossary :-

[i] Lambengolmo - Linguistic Loremaster

[ii] Lenna - Proceed/go

[iii] Ósanwe - telepathy

[iv] Atar - father

[v] Atto - Daddy

[vi] coimas - lembas

[vii] Arafinwë - Finarfin

[viii] Falmarin - Teleri

[ix] feä - soul

[x] Hantalë - thanks

[xi] Herinya - my lady

[xii] Á pusta - Stop

[xiii] Ányë hilya - follow me

[xiv] nèsa - sister

[xv] Galathilion- identical to Teleperion, though with no light of its own

[xvi] Namárië - Farewell

[xvii] aranelnya - my princess

[xviii] Tenn' enquetielva - Until we speak again

[xix] meldonya - my friend


	2. Forest Mumurs

Chapter 2: Forest Murmurs

November 1, 1981 – Forbidden forest, HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY.

"The forest hides many secrets" –Ronan, the centaur. (1991)

Quenya words

A deep roar sounded as the sky began to brighten. A huge motorcycle landed on the eastern border of the forest. The figure astride dismounted and hastened towards the forest. He was clad in a big jacket, with long tangles of bushy black hair on his head and a beard that hid most of his face. He walked into the woods carrying a small bundle of blankets in his arms.

He didn't know why Professor Dumbledore had given instructions to bring the child here first and then to his muggle relatives. He should be looked at by the healers, he thought, not be brought here to this dense forest to be seen by those ruddy stargazers.

James and Lily were dead, killed by the dark lord. The man wiped his eyes, blowing his nose loudly into his handkerchief. It had been hard to leave their bodies behind, but it was necessary to get the child away before the muggles could swarm in.

He heard the sound of hooves behind him and got off the path to hide behind a tree. Into the clearing came a centaur. He was quite young looking compared to the others Hagrid had met before, with white hair and a golden coat on his body.

The centaur came forward and extended his hand to shake. "My name is Firenze. You must be Hagrid, who was supposed to bring the child."

Hagrid eyed his hand for a moment, and after a while, he grasped it and shook it firmly. "Yeh that would be me. How would yeh know 'bout Harry?"

Firenze eyed him with amusement, though his voice was calm. "I was informed you would come. So, this is the child?" He took a step forward to look inside the small bundle, but paused in mid step as the half-giant took a step back.

Hagrid narrowed his eyes. "Do yeh have a letter or somethin'?"

"Letter? I thought you were informed by the headmaster of that school," stated the centaur with a raised brow.

Hagrid bristled slightly, and answered with a growl apparent in his voice. "Yeh, I was told."

He stalled for a while, but in the end went ahead and placed the child carefully in the centaur's arms, as he remembered Dumbledore's orders. Looking at the centaur with anxious eyes, he said, "The baby will be alright?"

However, the centaur was silent as he adjusted the child in his arms, and gazed at the child's face, lingering on the scar on his forehead. "It is New Moon tonight," he said with a voice filled with sorrow.

Hagrid, breathed deeply, trying not to blow up. "Well, that's well and good. The baby has to be brought to his relatives before midnight, so do hurry up."

The centaur finally looked at Hagrid with piercing eyes. "The child will be returned to you before darkness, but you must stay here."

Hagrid flushed at the centaur's words. "I, won' follow, o' course, though... Dumbledore didn't ask me not to, but..."

The centaur turned away sharply and disappeared into the woods, leaving a spluttering gamekeeper in his wake.

The forest was more dense and broad on the inside, just like any other enchanted place. The deeper you proceeded, the older the trees were, until in the heart of the forest the trees were the most aged. Around this area lay a barrier, though none could notice the change. It would confuse any mortal, diverting them away from the path. If the mortal had strong will and was persistent, they would feel a pressure in their minds and would be knocked out cold. They would wake up far away, with no memories of ever visiting that place.

Firenze felt the presence of the barrier and came to a stop in front of the dense woods. Not a moment later, a figure dropped lightly in front of him.

The Elf had dark hair, a bow and arrows strapped on his back and a sword in a scabbard hung on his waist.

"Well met, Firenze, friend of Elves," greeted the Elf as he shook the centaur's hand, stepping outside the borders.

"Good Morning, Ohtar. Here is the child," said Firenze as he extended his arms for the Elf to take the child.

The Elf looked at the child with a confused look, his brows furrowing at the child's injuries. "The child is injured. Who is the child?"

"Harry Potter. The gamekeeper from the school brought him," said Firenze.

However, before Ohtar could speak further, a strong voice came from behind him.

"Here you are, Firenze, the golden centaur. So, did you bring the child from the keeper?"

They saw an old man with long white beard, clad in sea-blue robes which were stained from his travels, a staff in one hand, walking towards them with the grace seen in a young man.

The centaur bristled slightly at the name. "Yes, I did bring the child, though the gamekeeper was kind enough to instruct me to return the child before midnight," replied Firenze sarcastically.

The blue wizard, however, chuckled in return, clapping a hand lightly on the centaur's shoulder. "Could this old man ask for one last favour today?" asked the wizard with innocent eyes which fooled no one, as he took the child into his arms.

"Is there a chance you will take no for an answer?" replied the centaur dryly, his arms crossed in front of him.

The blue wizard replied with a serene smile. "None, I must say. Though it is always polite to ask first."

Firenze just rolled his eyes. "I will come before darkness falls to return the child back to the gamekeeper."

With a last nod in the Elf's direction, the centaur galloped away into the forest. The blue wizard continued to look in the centaur's direction. "Amazing beings, the centaurs. Don't you agree, Ohtar?"

However, the Elf just raised his brow, and replied, "Amazing, indeed. Though I wonder why this child is being brought here and not being treated by the mortals themselves?"

The wizard heaved a sigh and met the gaze of the young Elf evenly. "I regard your laws with respect, Ohtar. But the child requires healing that can only be provided by your kind."

The Elf narrowed his eyes, lips pressed in thin line. "Twice the mortals have caused misery for us, Alatar. The crimes they have committed are not forgivable."

The wizard voice grew strong and firm. "I agree, Ohtar. But the child needs treatment."

Ohtar narrowed his eyes in response. Just like another young Elf, screaming profanities at the Ainur, and then coming a little while later to ask permission to learn healing with an innocent face.

After awhile, the Elf lowered his gaze. "I apologise, Alatar. The wounds given by them are still fresh on our minds. It affects our judgement at times."

"That is the nature of hatred. It corrupts everything it touches," said the blue wizard. With a twinkle in his eyes, he added in a mockingly serious voice, giving the Elf a long face. "Do I have your permission to enter? You know, I am not exactly young. Maybe, I should inform your father of this insolence."

The Elf rolled his eyes at the old wizard's antics with a smile, his eyes free from the shadows of the past. "Indeed, Alatar. You are welcome, along with the child."

Ohtar stepped aside to let the wizard pass with the child. As the blue wizard disappeared from his line of sight, he pulled out a small mirror from inside his tunic to inform the Lords and the Lady about this new development.

In the centre of the forest, stood a mallorn tree - barely a hundred years old - hidden by the surrounding trees as if they wanted none to notice its presence. The wizard had brought the mallorn nut when he arrived on Earth from Middle Earth a hundred years before.

The Elvish architecture on this tree was such that a stranger might pass from end to end and see none of them. Small talans were constructed on this tree where the Elves dwelled. The tree was the source of sorrow and longing for the sundered Elves, as it reminded them of what was lost. On the highest branches, a huge talan was constructed for holding counsel.

The blue wizard paused beneath the tree, pondering how best to get up high there. A moment later, he felt a presence behind him and heard the newcomer speak.

"Do you require help, Alatar?"

He faced the brown haired Elf maiden with a bow; there were arrows strapped on her back, her hair was held in a braid. She was so similar in features, yet so much different from her brother whom he had met on the borders. She looked serenely at the child.

"Aiya, Allindë. Well, I would appreciate the help," replied the wizard with a nod.

The maiden took the child and smiled. She finally looked up and said, "Atto will not be happy. Though if you mention the poison in the wound before he can speak, it might work in your favour."

The wizard gave a slight nod in return, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Allindë went ahead to climb the ladder, climbing it with barely a sway.

As he reached the flet above, he came face-to-face with two other maids with bows and arrows strapped on their backs – one black haired and the other light haired – standing on the way that lead to the talan.

"Well met, Lomiel, Alassea. I hope you have been doing well?" asked the wizard, taking the child back.

"I hope you do not plan to abandon the child here, Alatar. He is barely a year old, as you might have noticed," replied Lomiel dryly, as she inclined her head in greeting.

The wizard chuckled under his breath. He should have known. "No. I do not have any such plans for him. His fate waits for him out there."

"You must stay this time, Alatar," said Alassea serenely, though on the inside she was barely managing not to ask the questions she had for the wizard. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time: to ask the wizard personally about what had occurred in Valinor and Middle Earth.

"I will, for a time," said the wizard, reading the eagerness present in the young maiden's eyes. "But you should write down all your questions, and I will send you the answers. I must first discuss something with your Amil and Atar, as she is bound to be waiting for an explanation. And so will your uncle."

The wizard turned to make his way towards the talan. Though, suddenly, a curious voice called out, halting the wizard in his tracks.

"Where are we going, Alatar? Even though you mentioned you would stay but then you told her to send an owl."

The wizard faced the dark haired maiden with a sigh. "The time for Elves to leave these shores is nearing, Allindë."

He turned suddenly and continued his journey, leaving the three maidens confused. However, a certain black haired one was more worried than concerned.

Three elder Elves were present as the wizard entered the talan. The Lady with light hair looked up towards him with a calm demeanour from a seat-like structure carved in the trunk, a hand-mirror placed on her lap. Besides her stood a tall, proud Elf Lord with fair hair, a serene air around him. One Elf stood with his back towards him – another Lord with dark hair.

"Elensílalúmenn' omentielvo, Ilsawen," said Alatar serenely as he entered.

"Vandëomentaina, Alatar," Ilsawen replied, standing up.

However, before the wizard could speak further, the dark haired Elf Lord asked, his voice as firm as a mountain: "What is the meaning of this, Alatar?"

"The child requires healing...," the wizard started but was interrupted.

"They have their own healing places to treat their own. Why bring him here?" Artulco asked, his eyes filled with an ancient pain, as he finally faced the wizard.

The stern Elf in front of him was world apart from the young, smiling Elf who used to be a source of calm and strength for his father and cousin.

Taking a deep breath, the wizard tried to explain. "The child requires healing that cannot be treated by any mortal, Artulco. Not many here have studied in the gardens of Estë, my friend."

Artulco turned his back to him and the child. "That is no concern for us."

Though saddened at the response, the wizard was unrelenting as he turned towards Ilsawen.

"Herinya, the child has survived death at the hands of a dark wand user. Though he lives, it is not as over as it seems. The dark one will return, more terrible than before. You will not survive his reign if he discovers that you are ageless in these lands. The child is the only key to defeat him."

Only breathing and the rustle of leaves could be heard. At last, Ilsawen took the child in her arms, smiling slightly, for the Eldar's love for children runs deep. She touched the child's face and heard the child sigh in relief. Remembering the days of old, the sister spoke to her brother in his thoughts.

'Brother, did you not take Lomiel as your daughter when Alatar brought her to us, a hundred years ago? Did you turn your face away from your own children despite the treachery committed in their conceiving? Then why not help this hìna?'

Artulco tried not to meet his sister's pleading eyes. After a while though, his heart melted. He conceded and looked at the child, checking him over while still being held by Ilsawen, and frowned at the gash on the child's forehead. "The scar is poisoned. I require a few days to remove it completely."

"The scar will remain."

The three Elves looked up at the wizard, with brows furrowed at the stern statement.

Artulco finally spoke up with a raised brow. "I am not an Ainur or an Istari, Alatar. I require time to heal him."

The wizard, however, was undeterred, as he said, his voice coiled with power, "The child will return before starlight to his kin...bearing the scar."

The fair headed Elf lord finally spoke up, his eyes narrowed. "You brought him here for healing."

"He is the key to defeat the dark one, Rauqeno. The scar signifies that his adversary chose him. It would not be prudent to strike against fate."

Artulco was silent for a while, as he gazed at the unrelenting wizard. He knew better than to argue when he became adamant like that. "I will see what I can do for the child."

With a nod in the wizard's direction, Artulco took the child from his sister and left the talan.

However, Rauqeno continued to look at the wizard. "Why would you bring the child here Alatar, if not for healing?"

The wizard met the accusing gaze of the Elf lord evenly and replied. "The child's survival is a mark for a battle to come."

Ilsawen intervened, her hands closed tightly in fists. "We do not interfere in the matter of mortals. The previous time, when we sent one of us out to the school, he never returned."

The blue wizard replied solemnly, "Herinya, there is no other option. We need to send three emissaries amongst the mortals. Not only to search for the lost design through which you could return, but also to erase the concept of time travel before it falls into wrong hands. It is now more necessary than ever. Moreover, it is time to return. You cannot dwell here any longer. It burdens you heavily. You might fade if you do not sail to Valinor soon."

Ilsawen closed her eyes at the words, knowing every word spoken by the wizard was true. Though none would admit it, they all were weary and tired of their stay in these lands. Unlike their kin in Middle Earth, they could not say it would cause them sorrow to depart. She felt Rauqeno's hand on her shoulder as he provided her strength through his fëa.

The wizard continued, looking away into the forest. "Mistindo was discovered. They took the work from him. He may have refused to teach them the art of how to create the turners, and they may be holding him a prisoner as they cannot make new ones. That is the information I have acquired in my travels."

Ilsawen looked at the wizard with wide eyes, while Rauqeno was breathing deeply, his hands closed tightly in a fist, nails digging deeply until blood was drawn, though he did not notice.

"They hold him a prisoner? When Artulco and I went out to search when he did not return, we were just able to retrieve his tattered blood stained robes. The witch told..."

Ilsawen answered; her voice filled held contempt and sorrow. "She lied to you. In addition, after what she did to Artulco, trying to marry him by using her witchcraft on him, what else should we expect from the likes of them?"

Ilsawen placed a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Do not worry vennonya. We will find him."

Rauqeno nodded, holding her hand tightly. "I hope you are correct, vessënya. Though I shudder to think in what condition we might find him."

At last, Ilsawen asked quietly, "When do you suggest we should begin our journey, Alatar?"

The wizard paused, considering how best to phrase his reply. "The search needs to be conducted both at ministry and the school. I have made the necessary arrangements."

Rauqeno frowned, considering which other elf he could convince to undertake this journey with him, as he was quiet sure Artulco would come. "When do we leave?"

Well here it comes, the wizard thought, as he took a deep breath, knowing there was no other way. "The journey must begin at midnight. I will provide the required cover for three maidens."

Ilsawen and Rauqeno were silent as they stared at wizard as though he has lost his mind.

The wizard hurriedly explained, not wanting either of them to throw him out. "The elder Elves cannot undertake this journey. This journey is not meant for the travellers from Valinor, but for those who were born in these lands."

Finally, Ilsawen said in a calm voice, "We have to ask them, Alatar. However, I am certain they will agree. But in the end, it will be their decision."

However, Rauqeno was having none of this. "That is not a valid option."

Ilsawen faced her husband as she took his hands in her own. "He is right, the elders cannot partake this journey. If there is a battle coming in the future, we need to prepare for it. Moreover, we must complete the other half of our work. We cannot hide away for ever."

The wizard was grateful to find an ally in Ilsawen, no matter how unexpected. He now knew that if the three maidens agreed, no one would stop them.

Alatar looked up from his resting place from where he was enjoying the sun shining brightly in the centre of the sky. A dark haired maiden appeared at the talan. She noticed the wizard lying inside and gave him a bright smile.

"A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Alatar."

The wizard smiled in return, though he was worried at the dimness in the eyes of the strong maiden, who used to be a constant source of trouble and mischief in Valinor. "Well met, wild fire. Though, you do not seem to live up to your name."

Ruiviel chuckled slightly in return, her eyes brightening slightly. "Well, you do live up to your image, Alatar. Bringing a child seems to be a habit of yours. Last time it was Lomiel, this time it is a mortal. What should we expect next time, Alatar? Perhaps a dwarf, next time?"

The wizard shook his head slightly, as he chuckled. At least some things never changed. "Apologises, wild fire. I did not know it was affecting you."

Before Ruiviel could retort, Ilsawen appeared in the talan, carrying a basket full of grain in one hand, and with tiny flecks of white stalks stuck in her braided hair. She noticed Ruiviel and said, "Ruiviel there is a meeting in starlight. Do inform the others."

Ruiviel furrowed her brows as she noticed the hollowness in her friend's voice. She wanted to know the cause, but stalled it for a later time as she noticed how more tired than usual Ilsawen seemed. "I would, silver maiden. Though, I came here to inform Alatar that Artulco wants him to visit the healing area."

In the shade beneath the tree, fresh grass grew on a pavilion on which fallen mallorn flowers were scattered, with leaves acting as the roof. In the flowering season, when the sun shone brightly above, it almost felt like sitting beneath Laurelin. The fragrance of the herbs growing nearby had a soothing effect. As was soothing music played by the Eldar or sung by them, for the voices of the Eldar are fair, like a gentle soothing breeze blowing around, relieving the fëa of all weariness.

Alatar could feel the weariness from his travels diminish. The child was sleeping peacefully on an elven woven cloth besides a small bowl filled with warm water and herbs. He sat nearby and closed his eyes in peace, waiting for the Elf Lord to speak first. He was not disappointed.

"Alatar, I have never seen someone mutilate their soul in such a gruesome manner and now the hìna carries it. The shield separating both can hold only for so long. Let me heal him, I pray," said Artulco in a grim voice, his brows drawn together.

The wizard breathed deeply. "It must remain, Artulco. It is his fate."

The Elf Lord was silent for a while as he continued his work. He finally said, "Are you certain the dark one will return? Would it not be wise for the child to be at his full strength for what is to come?"

The blue wizard opened his eyes and looked at the Elf with soft eyes. "Yes, it is for certain that he will return. This mark will be his undoing. The dark one will not stop at any cost until he kills the child himself, and this will act as the child's last defence against him. He must carry it with him, for this will be his only chance against someone like the dark one."

Artulco sighed, finishing his work. "I feel helpless, letting him leave while bearing this poison. Nevertheless, if what you speak is true, then the dark one will have a hard time to even lay a finger on the child for a long time. If he is surrounded by the First Music of Eru, it will strengthen the shield."

The blue wizard placed his hand on the Elf's shoulder, a knowing smile on his face. "That is all I ask. I knew that if someone could give at least a little protection to the child, it would be you."

Artulco chuckled bitterly under his breath. "I try, Alatar. However, in the end, it is not enough. It is never enough."

After being silent for a while as both friends were lost in their respective thoughts, the wizard suddenly said, "Time is running out, meldonya. We need to find the first part of your work before it is too late."

The Elf Lord fixed the wizard with a stare. "Well, I need to ask the others about this. I know for certain that Rauqeno would go with me."

The blue wizard replied, closing his eyes. "The effect of time is heavy on the elder Elves. If they undertake this journey, they would fade for sure. The young must be the ones doing this job."

His work completed, Artulco carefully placed the child on a makeshift swing made by Ruiviel. He spoke in a low voice, still facing away from the wizard, "Surely you jest. There are only four young Elves in our home who have not seen the light of the Two Trees, of which the youngest is barely a hundred years old, and I am compelled to remind you that the youngest was brought here by yourself."

The wizard sighed under his breath, trying to placate the Elf Lord. "Yes, three of them have to leave. My suggestion would be that Allindë, Alassea and Lomiel should be the ones to partake in this journey, as the wand users should underestimate them. A perfect ploy."

The Elf rose swiftly, closing the distance between them in two strides, as he towered over the wizard. The wizard was suddenly reminded that this was the same Elf who could combat the fire spirit of his cousin without being burned in the process. If he had been with Feanor's sons, maybe the history of Noldor would have taken a different course.

The Elf spoke barely above a whisper, the anger radiating from him almost made him look almost like an angered Ainur, with bright eyes who had seen the light to the Two Trees. "They are children. Not to be used for some ploy. And if it is required, then Ohtar will go in his younger sister's stead."

The wizard took a deep breath. "Ohtar must remain here. You know as well as I, that despite being twins, Allindë and Ohtar are worlds apart. The ghost of their...mother is in the school. If he recognises her, he will be distracted. Allindë on the other hand would not."

Or I hope so she would not, the wizard tried to assure himself.

The wizard tried to place his hand on his friend's shoulder to calm him down, but the attempt was thwarted. "We already have to work to a deadline. And if Rauqeno spoke true, then Mistindo is alive."

The Elf Lord continued to glare at the wizard. He saw a slight flicker in the wizard's eyes and his eyes dimmed as he let out a hollow chuckle. "I am outvoted."

It was not bearable to see the betrayed look in his friend's eyes. "I had no other choice, though I can assure you that we have already asked them and they have agreed."

The wizard tried to distract the Elf from the helplessness he could see radiating from him, and said, "It will not be long until you will finally take ship and meet your father and the one that captured your heart."

It had an opposite effect as Artulco chuckled darkly, his eyes ridden with grief and shame. "Do you want me to see love die in her eyes and see hatred and disgust burn in them for me? Or do you want me to see my father bow his head in shame? And Nerdanel, what I would say to her? That I was useless as an uncle to her children? That when they needed me I was busy vacationing away? I am not ashamed of my children, for I love them dearly. Nevertheless, I have no hope left for myself. Là, Alatar, I will not take the ship to Valinor."

The wizard seized the shoulders of the Elf Lord roughly. "Do not say that, Artulco! Never say that! I have not made this long journey just so you would remain in Middle Earth to the end! I searched for you partly because Princess Findis and Lord Rùmil asked me, or should I say, more like begged me to search for you and your sister. Do not consider their love for you so small."

Artulco breathed deeply, smiling bitterly in return. He turned away from the wizard. "We will hold the counsel in starlight. I will ask them to be prepared."

As the sun began to set in the sky, the wizard left the dwelling, carrying the child to the borders. He waited and heard the sound of galloping, as a centaur came into the clearing in front of him.

The centaur took the child from the blue wizard, with a raised his brow as he felt the smooth cloth in which the child was covered, but the wizard shook his head. Though curious, the centaur just nodded and said, "Goodbye, Alatar. May the stars guide you."

The blue wizard continued to look in the direction the centaur had left with the child, and said in a quiet voice, "Farewell, Firenze and Harry Potter. For now."

A/N Glossary of Quenya words:

[i] Aiya - Hello

[ii] Amil - mother

[iii] Elensílalúmenn' omentielvo - A star shines upon the hour of our meeting.

[iv] Vandëomentaina - Well met

[v] Herinya - my lady

[vi] hìna - child

[vii] Ainur - Valar

[viii] Istari- wizard/ Maia

[ix] Vennonya - my husband

[x] Vessënya - my wife

[xi] Fëa - soul

[x] Là - No

Do review and lemme know your views regarding the story.

Signing out,

Zoya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do let me know your views regarding the chapter.   
> Signing out,  
> Zoya


	3. An Unexpected Journey

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Journey

T. A. - 2890

"I want no mistake, Nori," Thorin said firmly, looking dead into the eyes of his prisoner.

Nori bit the inside of his cheek to keep his lips from smiling and replied, "There will be none, Thorin."

Despite his reassurance, he saw his king's eyes narrow slightly. He was being genuine, for Mahal's sake. The dwarf needed to be less suspicious. All that work in Bree amongst humans must be getting to him. "You have my word."

The warrior standing beside the king scoffed. "Honour? You are the last person to use those words, laddie."

Nori smiled serenely, though his hands were balled into fists at his sides. Trust the warrior to speak something that would touch the nerve, he mused. "You are just grumpy that you could not keep me here. Even amongst us, we have a code of honour, Dwalin."

"I will believe that when I see it," retorted the older dwarf with a snort.

"Enough!" Thundered Thorin while staring hard at Dwalin. "And you can wipe that smirk off your face, Nori," he added without looking at the younger dwarf.

Nori stopped at once, meeting his hard gaze, as the king spoke again in a low voice. "The only reason I would allow you to step out of this prison is because someone vouched for you. If you ever try to test my patience, you will regret ever meeting me again."

Nori nodded his head in response, and held his breath as the king loomed over him.

Thorin watched his prisoner for a while, noticing the slight yet visible fear in the young dwarf's eyes. He sighed inconspicuously; he didn't want any of his kin to be afraid of him, but certain situations called for certain procedures. The dwarf was quick on his feet, not to mention clever with his hands, as he would have gotten out of Thorin's hold had it not been for the quick arrival of Dwalin and Gloin. Thorin could still feel the sharp cuts given by the dwarf, which would have been life-threatening if they had not disarmed him. After putting the dwarf behind the bars – which Dwalin insisted the dwarf to be brought with a blindfold – they had retreated to the court room, where Gloin was present with the other fourteen members. Thorin had sat in silence as the dwarves around him discussed upon the best guard to be sent forth to receive the secret map to Ered Mithrin. Many had voted for Dwalin. However as they asked his opinion, he had recommended a recent prisoner.

"You are barking mad, Thorin!" thundered Dwalin while banging his axe in the ground. "This is no fool's errand. We need to attain the secret map sent forth by King Fròr."

Thorin matched the hard gaze of his warrior and friend with one of his own. "I know what I speak of, Dwalin."

Suddenly, a calm voice came from the group.

"I think Thorin is correct. We need someone who understands the need for secrecy."

All eyes turned at once towards Dori, who raised his voice and continued, "I don't recommend him solely due to the fact that he shares my blood. I say this because I believe that he is the one we need for this situation, someone who is underestimated, but capable enough to get what he wants."

The room was silent as the dwarves looked at their king, waiting for his final decision.

Thorin gave a nod to Dori, avoiding Dwalin's sour expression as he did. "So, it is by far decided. He will go forth."

Dwalin bowed his head to his king with the others and said, "Let him remain for a few weeks in that cell so he can be punished in the least and not treat this as an accomplishment."

Thorin shook his head slightly to return to reality and motioned Dwalin to come forward.

Dwalin opened the bars, using the key he always kept with himself and released the prisoner, though not before giving the dwarf a dark look.

Nori narrowed his eyes in response, but held himself together, as he didn't want to give the warrior a satisfaction of any kind.

Thorin ignored them as he dropped a parchment and a small bag in front of the dwarf. Nori caught it before it could fall down, and shook the bag close to his ears. It must be around fifty coins and by the sound of it, all gold; enough to buy the new set of quills for Ori which he had been eyeing in the market.

And Dori might, just for once, not frown at him with regret in his eyes.

"This is just a small amount. If you return victorious, you would be rewarded with much more, as I might consider you for a grander adventure," said the Exiled King, reading the emotions fleeting through the younger dwarf's face. Thorin turned on his heels sharply and left, after sending a nod towards Dwalin.

Nori was still amazed at the generous offer of his king when he stepped outside. He held the parchment and the bag under his arm while whistling under his breath.

It had been a few weeks since he had been inside the dank, small cell; perhaps comfortable for a hobbit, but not for a mature dwarf like himself. He took measured steps to avoid making a wild dash to his brothers.

Nori was hardly successful, as Dwalin chortled from behind him. Nori paused slightly; wanting to knock some sense into the older dwarf. However, before he could perform his earnest wish, he heard the amused voice of the warrior.

"It would result in you losing what you have earned, laddie. And bruised too. Might result in you being at odds with your brothers, again."

Dwalin saw the younger dwarf stiffen at his words. Nori reconsidered the loss he would suffer and hurried his pace, wanting to put enough distance between him and the warrior.

Dwalin shook his head, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

The young, always overconfident, but at the slight chance of their defeat, they would retreat.How much he would have liked for a certain dwarf prince to act like one of these young lads. Dwalin blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, hindered by the moisture in his eyes. Must be the dust; thought the older dwarf, and planned to assign two certain nephews of the King to clean these corridors.

Both dwarves stepped outside and parted their ways.

The moon was glowing brightly in the sky, but inside a small house the atmosphere had been tense ever since Nori had finished his tale.

The house consisted of only one room. On one side – plates, pots and firewood were kept, with a large pot boiling on the fire. Dori would stir it occasionally, tasting at intervals and adding the ingredients he had brought from Bombur the day before. On the other side, two worn-out trunks were placed nearby the wall. The smaller one held yarns of different colours, which could be seen from the slight opening. Beside the trunk, scrolls and a few books, with a broken quill were placed. A little further away, three slightly thick woollen blankets were spread on the ground. Nori and Ori were sitting on the blankets and shared a look, each wondering what to say to break the silence.

At last, Dori poured the stew in two bowls, passed them to his younger brothers and sat down on the last unoccupied blanket.

"Well, it should do you some good," he stated.

Nori waited for him to continue, but Dori remained silent as he quietly ate his stew. Consequently, he sighed internally, wondering if it would be easier to read his brother if he didn't set his face as blank as a stone. He carefully studied his brother out of the corner of his eyes, highly perplexed.

Ori lowered his eyes with a sad frown and clutched his new quills tightly to his chest.

Nori smiled mischievously, which made Ori narrow his eyes. Suddenly Nori tackled his brother and started to tickle him, soon enough hearing Ori laugh out loud.

"I might be back before either of you know it," Nori said monotonously, looking at his siblings with soft eyes.

As Nori released his brother, he saw Ori's smile disappear.

"That place is reported for continuous Orc activities, Nori."

Nori and Dori stared at their younger brother, who blushed under their attention, with wide eyes. Only one question was running through both of the elder brothers' minds: Who is passing such information to Ori?

Their gazes clashed, as Dori narrowed his eyes at Nori, and Nori raised a brow in return.

Nori broke the silence, smirking at Dori. "Well, it seems some things have changed while I was busy."

"What has changed?" Ori chimed in.

Dori snorted under his breath as he placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"Nothing, Ori. You are very well informed," Dori said, smiling at the younger dwarf and received a large smile in return.

Nori smiled slightly, though he felt a slight tug in his heart at the scene before him. Must be due to the wide proud smile on my brother's face, he thought.

He could count on his both of his hands with still a few fingers left, the number of times Dori had smiled at him. Suddenly, he got up, needing to step out for some fresh air.

Before Nori could open the door though, a voice came from behind.

"You're leaving right now?"

Nori faced his older brother, and noticed a flash of worry in his eyes but it was gone the next instant.

"No, I will leave before the next sunrise. A new day for a new work," he said and left the house, quietly shutting the door behind.

Nori was silent as he stared unseeing at the hustle and bustle in market.

Someone came and sat down beside him. Nori chuckled under his breath and spoke, without looking at the visitor.

"Well, I must say I never expected you to visit me."

However, his smile vanished as he heard the younger voice in reply.

"How did you know it is me, Nori?"

Nori slapped himself mentally, for feeling disheartened at his younger brother's voice. He was glad that Dori had not come, glad not to hear his lectures.

He faced his younger brother and smiled.

"I would always know when you would come."

Ori was silent as he chewed his lip. At last, he said, "You speak true?"

"That I do, little brother."

Ori burrowed his brows together.

"Will you come back?"

Nori ruffled Ori's braids, which had come out of the tight holding done by Dori.

"Always."

Nori was taken aback as his brother hugged him fiercely. Before he could inquire the reason, he heard his small voice.

"I feel that you will be gone for a long time."

Nori blinked in confusion. He detached his brother, held him at an arm length, and stared intently in his eyes.

"I will return, Ori. I will always return to you, little brother."

Ori glared at him, scowling deeply. At that moment, he reminded Nori of their older brother; the same fire sparking in his eyes, the same way his jaw would set when he was angered.

"I am not little anymore!"

Nori pressed his lips together as an attempt not to laugh at his red faced brother. However, a chuckle slipped from his mouth. Nori gave up the struggle and laughed out loud. After getting his chuckles under control, he faced Ori, who was sitting with arms folded tightly against his chest, staring morosely ahead.

Nori pulled out a sweet from his pockets, which he had picked up when he had went to visit Bofur, and gave a side glance to Ori, noticing him looking at the treat. He slowly brought it near his mouth, though before he could pop it in, Ori stretched his palm towards him. Nori sighed and placed it in his younger brother's hand. Nori hid his smile at the blissful smile on Ori's face.

Ori would always be little to him and Dori and pitying him slightly for being the youngest.

Ori glared at him as he began eating his treat.

"I will become big like you and Dori one day," he said between his bites, chewing loudly. "And I will also go on an adventure, just like you."

"And I will be at your side, little brother," Nori smiled as he lightly patted his brother on his back.

It was quite late when the siblings made their journey back to their small home. Nori halted as the house came into view. He knelt before Ori and stared intently at him.

"Be good. You shouldn't believe everything Kili and Fili says; they like to mess with you. Study hard under Balin - he is a good fellow compared to his Oliphant of brother," Nori said, winking at his brother.

"Dwalin is not that bad," Ori mumbled while stifling a yawn.

Nori raised his brow at the response. Not bad? What has that warrior done to earn respect from my brother?

"Dwalin does not consider me a child. He was the one who told me all about Ered Mithrin and the Orc activities," Ori answered with a proud smile.

Nori raised his brows higher.

And Dori was alright with that?

Nori shook his head, not knowing if he wanted to punch the warrior or congratulate him for being able to do something he himself had not succeeded in doing.

"Well, he may be a little good," Nori grumbled slightly at the innocent look in his brother's eyes, and resumed their journey.

Nori entered the house with a smile, carrying his sleeping younger brother inside. He laid his brother on his bed and looked wistfully around. He gave himself a slap to shake off the stupid feeling. Must be Ori's words getting to him.

It has been a month since Nori had set out to reach his destination. He encountered few Orcs, but left them, not wanting to be delayed.

Nori was breathing a little heavily, his clothes soaked, as he entered a cave at last and checked the map. A small red dot was marked on this area. This was the meeting place where the messenger from King Fròr was supposed to arrive. He had waited for days but to no avail. According to Thorin, the messenger had begun his journey long before him.

Nori was sitting in the highest branch as usual, looking for any signs of the messenger while morosely chewing the dried food. He heard the sound of a beast from a little away and saw a boar appear from the woods. Nori threw the dried food away, and stood up before jumping between trees to land a fatal aim at the beast. As he followed the animal, suddenly the boar let out a loud guttural squeal and became silent. Nori paused in mid step in his pursuit. It seemed there was someone other than himself around. He moved forward slowly, wanting to have a look.

Suddenly, he was hit in the face with a rotting smell and heard the loud howl of a Warg. Nori turned around quickly, but heard the jeering sound of the Orcs. Nori paused before starting to jump the trees to reach the area of commotion.

The scene before him was no less than gruesome. A naked bloodied dwarf was tied to a stake with palms nailed, whipped by the Orcs with nailed iron chains. Nori pulled out his dagger from his left sleeve and searched for their leader. He felt chills rolling down his back at the taunting cruel voice coming from behind the dwarf.

"I've grown weary of this. Will you tell me, runt, where is Thorin Oakenshield, or do I need to feed you to my Warg?!"

A pale Orc astride as a Warg came charging into the clearing. The large Orc brought his stride near the dwarf as the beast bared his large canines.

The bloodied dwarf was breathing heavily as he stared at the Orc with hatred shining in his eyes, spitting before him.

"Never, Bolg, son of the Defiler. You can burn me alive or tear me to pieces; even then I wouldn't tell you a thing."

Nori gulped in fear at the name: Bolg, son of Azog the Defiler. He had only heard about Azog from Dori. However, the older dwarf forgot to mention that the Orc had a son. If the son was so huge and menace-looking, imagine how the other one would be. Nori refused to think about relationship terms; it was not worth the effort, as such an evil-twisted being could not possibly know the meaning of that word.

As he roamed his eyes on the area, Nori caught a sight of a loose Firebeard, bead on one of the loosely hanging braids of the dwarf. It was a little known secret that many of the Firebeard clans were in Ered Mithrin.

This must be the messenger from King Fròr.

Nori quickly counted the strength of the enemy –thirty orcs, with five astride – and knew that charging into the fray would result in his death, though not before he landed a heavy blow on the enemy itself. As he started to climb down, Nori remembered the words of his King and the taunt by the warrior and paused.

He gritted his teeth and climbed back up.

Nori was contemplating his next course of action when he saw an Orc cut the braids of the dwarf. He stared angrily at the scene, feeling blood boil in his veins; it was the worst insult committed towards a dwarf. Although Nori had not been born during the time of defilement of their late King Thròr, brother of King Fròr, that memory burned feverishly in every dwarf's heart. Well, damn the consequences, he would not be a bystander and watch this foul occur before him.

Nori began to climb down the tree barefoot, ignoring the instincts that told him to stop and think wisely.

It a good thing that it's still raining, he thought as he cut the throat of one Orc standing below him and throwing his dagger at the throat of another. The rain would mask his smell and drown out the sound of blade slashing, or the last noise from the victim. Nori quickly finished another Orc by burrowing the dagger deeply in its vocal cords, before he picked up his throwing knife from the fallen Orc and jumped on another one, who had casted a look at him. He killed it quickly by removing its head from its neck. As Nori made his next attempt at his next target, a sudden howl rang nearby. He silenced the Warg by burrowing his knife and dagger deep into the throat together, but it was too late, as the enemy was at last alerted of his presence.

Nori was surrounded from all sides by the Orcs and their mounts.

The pale orc entered the ring and let out a cruel laugh.

"Another beardling. We are blessed by the One."

The Orc climbed down of his stride and loomed over Nori. Despite the chill he could feel rolling down his spine; Nori met the eyes of the Orc stubbornly. It, however, smiled in return.

"I will let you leave, young beardling, if you –unlike this one- tell me about the Durin's heir whereabouts."

However, Nori's eyes were fixed behind the Orc, on the firebeard dwarf that was tied on the stake. The dwarf seemed to have a little strength left and was using Iglishmêk. Nori blinked at the plea from the dwarf and shook his head negatively in response, but it was hindered as he was stuck heavily at the back of his head by the mace of the Orc.

"Are you listening to me, runt?!"

Nori glared at Bolg as the firebeard dwarf continued to repeat his plea. He wanted to ignore the dwarf's pleas to leave him be and take the message. However, his treacherous mind could not avoid the fact that it was a clever idea and a safe one, at least for him. To take the map and leave the clutches of the Orcs, and leaving the injured dwarf behind as well; he liked the idea, despite his revulsion at leaving one of his kin at the mercy of the Defiler or his blood. While his conservative side continued to try to convince him of the idea, alone on the run without any injured dwarf with him, he would return back to Ered Luin and deliver the map as well, proving his worth to Dori and Thorin. However, his proud inner-self pointed that it would prove the warrior right as well, about him having no honour.

Nori was frowning, still contemplating what to do, when the Orc added, as if knowing his inner monologue, almost like the lure of gold.

"You can walk away from here, young beardling, safely go back to your home. Just tell me where I can find Thorin Oakenshield, and you shall have your freedom."

Nori closed his eyes and conceded, giving into his survival instincts at last.

"I will tell you about his whereabouts. I have a map and if you follow it, you shall encounter him, as he often journeys to Ironhills. It is inside my clothes."

The pale Orc gave a cold laugh and ordered to the others.

"Take that map from him!"

Nori was surprised when he was released, but it was short lived, as the Orcs started to tear at his clothes. He let himself be kicked by the orcs around him as they tried to pull his clothes away. Nori let them tear his upper clothes apart and take the map, but rolled away before they could remove clothes from his lower body. He rolled on until he was near the ordinary belt that contained the map and hid it inside the hidden pocket of his pants.

Nori was about to stand when he heard the Orc announce, "Well, Thorin Oakenshield will be dead at last!"

Nori closed his eyes tightly at the words, knowing he would be responsible for any harm that would befall on his king. He had just succeeded in being at last accepted by his brother, he would not lose it in any way. He would make sure that Thorin was informed about this new development.

Nori stood up and started making his way towards the trees. However, before he could climb one, the Orcs pulled him back and within the circle.

"You gave your word, Bolg," Nori growled, standing with no weapon on him before the Orc.

"I promised I won't kill you, beardling, but to let you return, well..." Bolg trailed away while pulling out a small pouch and revealed a dull, roughly cut red stone gleaming with a strange light on the iron chain.

"A perfect time to see if this is of any worth."

The pale Orc threw the chain at Nori. Nori raised his hands to block it, which was of no use. Just as the stone touched his skin, Nori saw his surrounding blur.

Suddenly, as soon as it had started, it was over before Nori could even react. The smell of cabbage and feline beasts hit him strongly in the nose, and he heard the sound of wailing children nearby.

Nori found himself sitting on a wooden floor instead of the forest floor. He looked up and saw a small beast stalking towards him at a slow pace. It was brightly coloured, like gold, but its face looked like it had been squashed beneath the foot of an Oliphaunt, small eyes gleaming at him. It tried to smell him, but Nori swatted it away from him. The beast gave a shriek and took a swipe at him with its paws. He threw the beast away with a well-aimed kick at its side.

The cat landed heavily against the wall, tried to get up but was stuck in the ball of yarn, mewling loudly.

Nori stood up, despite feeling his knees would buckle under him any second. His ears had begun to ring from the moment he had landed on the wooden floor.

Nori glanced at his surroundings while clutching his head. The insides were built almost like the dwelling of Men in Bree. His eyes landed on a frail human that holding a child, and kept staring at him like a fool.

The face was devoid of beard, a woman perhaps, but her body was dressed in strange clothing, different from the one of those of the folk from Bree. She wore a net on her head and a strange kind of a knee length robe, with odd-looking boots which didn't look promising by the looks of it. The child wore different, strange clothing as well, had a scar on his forehead, as if cut haphazardly.

Nori met the shocked gaze of the woman and swept in a bow, at last. "Nori at your service, my lady."

But the woman didn't return the greetings, as she muttered, "Khazâd!"

Nori stood straight, rather taken aback by the use of the dwarven language. He narrowed his eyes, trying to determine to which race the woman would belong. Her face was human, but she could belong to the Nùmenoreans for all he knew. Well, only one way could confirm his suspicions.

"Are you a Dùnedain?"

The woman shook her head negatively, though she appeared ill ease as a hushed male's voice came from the mirror clutched in her hand. Nori moved slightly forward to hear the words spoken.

"Ma merilyë tulconya, Lomiel?"

He was surprised at the sound of the language. Not something he understood, but the sweet, flowing sound could be heard naught in other languages except the Elvish. It might be some new version used amongst the Nùmenoreans, as the Elves seemed to teach their languages to others willingly.

The woman replied, shaking her head negatively.

"Là ... Atar. I will handle this."

Nori saw the woman put the mirror back in her robe's pocket.

At last, she faced him and spoke, using the Common Tongue. "Do not fear and sit."

Nori narrowed his eyes at the calm voice of his hostess. Could this be the witch's sorceress of whom he had heard on his travels? But she was supposed to be an elf sorceress living in woods, rather than this plain-looking human standing before him.

Instantly, Nori felt his head throbbing as if he had drunk a lot, which was utter rot, as he never felt this heaviness even when he would drink himself into oblivion. He was sure that he had barely taken a sip from his flask today.

Nori shook his head slightly, trying to stop the dizziness. He frowned at the woman. Is she the cause of this?

"Who are you?! What are you doing?! Stop it this instance!" Nori shouted at the woman. However, her face was alarmed.

Nori felt his legs buckle underneath him as the world around him grew dark.

In the distance, he heard a crash and the woman shouting nearby.

Nori groaned as he tried to open his eyes, but closed them quickly and focused to determine his location.

It must have been Bofur, to drink him to oblivion. Nori groaned again, thinking about the reaction of his older brother if he ever found him in that state. But...he had gone away, hadn't he? On their king's orders, right? It wasn't a dream, or was it...?

Nori sat up in a fast motion that almost made him loose his balance. The only reason he had not fallen down was due to walking on the narrow bridges in the mountain. He stood up carefully as he heard a slightly amused voice coming from the other room.

"I think our guest has woken up at last."

Nori shot up from the bed and headed towards the voice. He was surprised when he noticed the shirt on him, which was almost like those humans wore but with a mixture of hobbit design. He recalled not wearing it when the Orcs tore the last one apart. By Mahal, what had that witch done?

Nori barged into the room and smelled the heavy aroma of food. Three women were present there; one with a net on her head was stirring a small pot kept on fire coming from a small stone. Nori was quiet certain that such small stones were not used for cooking. The second one had her blond hair held in a bun and was reading a book while marking it at intervals with a quill; she also wore a large blue stone on her finger. The last woman had dark hair and a pointed hat placed on her lap, her eyes closed.

Nori stared at the women, feeling his neck prick, wary to approach them. Suddenly, the woman with dark hair spoke up as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Do come inside. I must say, you gave us quite the scare. You have been out for several weeks - almost a month now."

Nori stared at the woman blankly as she got up and filled a mug with hot liquid. She smiled and offered him the mug, which while he accepted but didn't risk drinking it.

He wavered on his feet, after finding his voice at last and asked the question that was burning within him from the moment he had met one of them.

"Who are you?"

The familiar woman he had met before losing his consciousness, answered, "I am Lomiel."

She pointed at the woman with the hat and said, "Allindë, my sister."

At last, she motioned to the blond woman, who looked up and gave him a nod, "Alassea, my cousin."

Allindë offered him a seat again, which he accepted.

"You say it has been a month," Nori said carefully and received a nod in return.

"True, we could not take you to our father, as it is not prudent for the patient to be moved a lot. But he visited you once, despite his distaste to the means of travels and has healed you," answered Allindë with a proud smile.

Nori didn't know whether he should be grateful or annoyed for being treated by those beings.

"You have... Elvish names," Nori pointed out, distracting himself away from their odd gaze.

It was Alassea who answered this time with a laugh.

"Well, what else would our names be? Or do you prefer the Men's names? We have those too."

Allindë chuckled lightly as Lomiel rolled her eyes with upturned lips at the weird blond woman.

He almost told them that they were much weirder than those poncy Elves, and that was not even a compliment. Yet he was wary to insult them, for Elves held terrible grudges, and he knew nothing about these strange women.

"What is the date?" Nori asked, not wanting to dwell on the strange things and the surroundings as well.

"It is 31st of December today," answered Alassea with a smile.

However, Allindë spoke too, almost as if she could read his mind.

"It is the twentieth century on this planet."

Nori felt blood run cold in his veins. He could not - would not believe this. Those weird women were lying to him through their teeth. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.

"Well, thank you for your help," Nori said, fake smile on, before he got up and went towards the door.

Suddenly, the doors closed, as if on command. Nori pushed against them but to no avail.

He faced the women, fists tightly held on his side.

"Open the door," Nori stated, furious at the nonsense going on.

Nori shook his head. He should have known not to expect a straight answer from the Elves. But for a human to speak the same way - !

"We can't let you go," stated Allindë with no regret. "Firstly, because this is not your world; and, secondly, you are not fit enough to journey out alone in this world yet."

Nori stared at the woman blankly. However, the woman was not done in the least.

"We don't want them to find about you; it won't end in a good way."

Nori raised his hand to silence the woman. "Well, I appreciate your concern, but it is not required. I can look out for myself quite well on my own. Just open the damn door."

Lomiel placed a hand on Allindë's shoulder.

"Alright, Khazâd. You do not believe us. If you think this is right thing to do, go forth."

The doors opened after Lomiel had finished speaking.

Before Nori could step out, he heard one of the women call from behind him. He faced them for what he hoped was the last time.

Allindë was standing before him, with a small mirror in her hand. "I don't support this, but you have a right to decide. Take this mirror with you. With this, you can communicate with us to learn the tongue used here. Just say one of our names and we will appear on the other side."

Nori didn't wanted anything from those weird women, but one look in the eyes of Allindë confirmed that it was not a request at all.

He sighed, took the mirror from the woman and stepped outside.

Deep in his heart, Nori could hear his brother's voice, ringing clearly in his ears.

"I feel that you will be gone for a long time."

A/N: I would like to thanks Cranes, RedMoon, Aniron, Princess and Regalswan for their help with regards to proof reading this chapter.

(i). Ma merilyë tulconya - Do you want my support/help

(ii). Là - No

(iii). Atar - Father

Do review and lemme know your views regarding this chapter. Happy New Year to all.

Signing out,

Zoya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do lemme know your reviews regarding the chapter.  
> Zoya

**Author's Note:**

> Do comments and lemme know your thoughts regarding the fic!!
> 
> Signing out,  
> Zoya


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